She spoke quietly, to herself rather than to me.
“Biannual visits... continuity of community integration... early identification of any additional support needs...”
She continued to read, and then I saw her face change and she glanced at me, her expression a mixture of horror, alarm and pity.
She must have got to the section about Mummy. I stared her out.
She took a deep breath, looked down at the papers and then exhaled slowly as she looked up at me again.
“I had no idea,” she said, her voice echoing her expression. “Do you... you must miss her terribly?”
“Mummy?” I said. “Hardly.” “No, I meant...” she trailed off, looking awkward, sad, embarrassed.
Ah, I knew them well—these were the holy trinity of Oliphant expressions.
I shrugged, having no idea whatsoever what she was talking about.
Silence sat between us, shivering with misery. After what felt like days had passed,
June Mullen closed the file on her lap and gave me an overly bright smile.
“So, Eleanor, how have you been getting on, generally, since Heather’s last visit, I mean?”
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